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Monday, December 05, 2011

Monday Poetry Stretch - "Index" or "Table of Contents" Poem

If you could write your life or someone else's in an abbreviated form, what would it look like? This is the question I ask myself every time I read Paul Violi's poem "Index." You can read the poem at The Agonist. You may also be interested in Violi's words on the poem.

So, I'm imagining this as something of a biographical (or autobiographical) list poem. Let's see what kind of poetry we can make of this, shall we? Leave me a note about your poem and I'll share the results here later this week.

Part 2 – The Early Years (1966-1970)Older brother and sister think I’m too skinnyOnly milk, but corn on the cob for dessertConstantly moving, always outsideCorralled by chicken wireNo one wants to call me for dinnerDad carries me by one arm, I carry my bikeStubborn doesn’t begin to describe me

Part 3 – School and Then Some (1970-1988)Reading all the timeStealing books off my brother’s shelfThe Pushcart War, The Phantom Tollbooth, The HobbitLove school, hate routineMath and science speak to mePlay sports, sing, sing, SINGWrite angsty teenage poetry1983 - Graduate, operation, gap yearNew London and summers on the EagleNew school, new studiesGraduate

Part 4 – The Real World (1988-1994)New city, new jobScience teacherLove the kids, hate the kidsMiddle school is a roller coaster I ride for free!Grad schoolLove connectionDissertationSleep eludes meMorning wedding, double rainbowNo honeymoonBack to writing, writing, writingDissertation defense

Part 5 – I Live Where? (1994-2009)New city, new jobSouth of the Mason-Dixon lineCivil War or War of Northern Aggression?I’ve entered the Twilight zoneLove my job, love my job, LOVE MY JOBRuled by the academic calendarTenureClock tickingBaby at 35Work and motherhood, a balancing actWhere do the days go?Baby is a growing boy

Part 6 – Life Changes (2009-present)Lost DadHome isn’t home anymoreMore time with momRacking up frequent flyer milesHow did I get here?Still singingStill writingStill livingWondering what’s next . . .

Thanks, Jane! I love the combination of feet, scars, and kicking--not a passive life by any means!

Aha, Tricia--I like how you said it. "THEY SAID YES!" People who watch too many after-school specials don't realize that an adopted family is, for some of us, ours heart and soul. (You also have something in common with my father, who was a UCLA professor for 32 years and love, love, LOVED HIS JOB.)

1. Artless child of modest girth and quaint simian-like features arrives at St. Mary’s Hospital two weeks late, three endearing, life-long traits.

2. Mother seeks psychiatric advice two years later, secretly afraid a second Julia (often-spotted swinging [via prehensile tail?] from local trees) is on her way.

3. Precocious child, reading by age three (according to her fanciful mother), shows signs of true intellect when she asks pregnant black woman on city bus if her baby will be black, too. Father disputes both claims.

4. Spends years 5 – 17 under the auspices of series of psychopathic nuns, emerging none the worse considering her initial state of entry.

5. Fearful she is headed for the nunnery herself, Julia is banished to remote Catholic College by loving parents in their somewhat tardy attempt to quash torrid love affair between Julia and her high school homeroom teacher.

6. Year in which Julia flunks out of Holy U. to her parents’ dismay, but is partially redeemed by inappropriate boyfriend dumping her at same juncture.

7. Following in quick succession, several rag-tag years in which Julia wallows in severe self-pity and anorectic symptoms in wake of unexpected jilting.

8. Julia claws her way back to college after period of mental lethargy, thus beginning eight year stint at various universities in pursuit of BA, MA, and PhD in English. 9. Year in which Julia flings herself with blind faith (via self-same tail?) into marriage, NYC and soon thereafter, a life in Paris, where, true to form, she abandons doctoral dissertation and embarks on career of full-time motherhood for next twenty-five years.

10. Second chapter in Julia’s life begins in which she rekindles love of books after raising four little monkeys of her own and, forgoing all attempts at erudition, somewhat belatedly :) attempts to pursue career in art.

Under pressure: allow content’s air to escape without distraction by imagining a candle flameor the air itself upon a wheel.Do not shake or drop,as contents will quickly sour.To prolong shelf life,place contents on a fallen oak limbin the morning sun and allow to ripen. Aging at room temperature,will also bring out the rich spice and fruity flavors.If the contents spill out and create a sudden disaster,try speaking words that start with l and s, such as loblolly, lentils, lakes and loons, then sweaters, succulents, and simplicity.Do not expose the contents to rain, electrical storms or the sight or sound of young animal pain.If the contents are lost then found, leave alone if contents are pickled.If a sugar coating appears, give a good quick rinse, as this coating may have a slightly bitter flavor.Contents will reach full maturity without much care and should be sharedwith others in a small settings, happy gatherings.May be simmered on a warm stone, near the phlox in August,A damsel fly stirring gently over,and music somewhere in the brush,preferably Sibelius.

This prompt brought me to package contents. Such is the writer's task. Charles Simic once said something like, writing a poem is a little like heading off to church, soon you wonder how you arrived at the racetrack.

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